Kissing
by boshums
Summary: Adventures of Tom Sawyer: Tom wanders what it feels like to BE kissed. SLASH. WIP.


Title: Kissing  
Author: boshi  
Pairing: questionable Tom/Huck  
Rating: PG for… ugh, awkward situations?  
Disclaimer: Dude, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are in NO way, shape or form mine. I'm not even sure I can put this on I am not Samuel Clements, though I do have a book signed by him. The point is, I DON'T OWN THE COPYRIGHTS TO ANY BOOK! Woe is me. Authors' Note: This is complete shit, I know, but feedback would still be nice. That is all.  
Summary: Tom wanders what it feels like to BE kissed.  
Archive: Yeah, right. Show me a Tom and Huck archive. I dare you.

**Kissing**

They'd been horsing around in the forest that afternoon, doing foolish, juvenile-like things such as capturing frogs for pets and cultivating their own small adventures. Now, however, they'd grown tired of finding things to entertain themselves with, and had taken to lazing around in Huckleberry's forest den. Thomas Sawyer laid sprawled out on the forest floor, his head pillowed on a rock covered with his jacket, legs spread eagle on a slightly upward bank, one arm draped across his stomach while the other played with the top of a straw he was chewing. He was talking without pause about anything and everything, from the mundane happenings of the ant hill outside his window, to what bit of school and town gossip a little boy hears.

Huckleberry Fin was seated a little bit away, slouched between the roots of an old oak tree but looking comfortable enough. He too was chewing on a straw, but Huckleberry, unlike Tom, was not speaking. He was instead watching Tom's lips as they moved to form around words and which revealed shining teeth when he laughed every once in a while, and catching with his eyes the beads of inevitable sweat trickling down the side of Tom's face. He licked his lips unconsciously when Tom's eyes turned on him for a moment to check whether his audience was listening. Huckleberry had to blink himself out of his stupor a few moments later when he realized the enchanting lips he was watching had been calling his name.

"Hey Hucky? Do you think Becky liked the kiss?"

"What?" Huckleberry managed after a few moments spent struggling to get his dry mouth to cooperate.

"Becky, you know, the girl I'd gotten engaged to a while ago?" Tom stated, his brow already creasing with doubt concerning the validity of the question.

"Do you think she liked the kiss?"

"C-course she liked it, why wouldn't she 'ave liked being kissed by you? She'd be a fool if she didn't. Like it, that is." Huckleberry was sure he had said far too much, but at the moment he was wondering how he had spoken at all considering the ideas coming form the sudden image of he himself being kissed by Tom that popped into his mind. To have Tom lay out atop him while he was cradled in the dewy grass, Tom's warm body pressed into him, smothering Huck completely while his boyishly smooth lips caressing Huck's own… Huckleberry quickly bit down on his own lip, cutting off the moan that threatened to break forth and bringing him back to reality quickly enough to catch the last bit of Tom's question.

"---to be kissed?"

"What?" Huckleberry chocked out, his voice a lot thicker than he last remembered.

"I asked you what it's liked to be kissed," Tom repeated with a slightly worried look in Huck's direction.

"You alright there Huckleberry? You dun look so good." Huck quickly coughed to try and clear out his throat before replying.

"Why'd you want to know that?"

"Well, coz I ain't ever _been_ kissed before."

This answer properly perplexed Huckleberry; hadn't they been talking about Becky and Tom's kiss just a few moments ago? So… that meant that Tom had kissed. Heck, he and Tom had even talked before about the numerous other girls Tom had kissed in his short life. Eyeing Tom with slight suspicion, Huckleberry voiced his confusion.

"Well, course I've _kissed_ before; I dun know anyone who hasn't. I was asking what it felt like to _be_ kissed. As in, you know, some one else coming up and starting it all." Oh. Well, when he put it that way…

"Well why don't you just go get yourself kissed?" Huckleberry gave a mental jolt, shocked at what had just come out of his mouth. "I mean..," he stuttered. But Tomas did not seem to notice; he appeared to be preoccupied with Huckleberry's last input to the conversation.

"…but what guy would kiss me?"

Huckleberry stared at Tom in surprised shock, his mind refusing to wrap around the words just spoken. He was sure Tom had not said that; it had just been a tick of his over-stressed mind. He opened his mouth once, but nothing came out. Swallowing quickly and licking his lips, Huckleberry tried again and succeeded, rasping out a slightly harassed, "What?"

"Well," said Tom, coming out of his internal musings, "you know that girls can't kiss fellows; that just ain't allowed. 's why they're never the ones to start an engagement. So, I'd have to get another bloke to kiss me so I could see how it was. But who'd I get?" Huckleberry swallowed thickly as Tom paused, half-dreading and half-excited for him to continue, "I don't think I'd want any of the younger guys Joe and I mess around with during the day to do it. An' it'd be weird to ask Sid to do it; I think he'd chicken out besides. And--and Joe..." Huckleberry held his breath tight…

"Well, I don't think Joe'd much like me asking him to kiss me."

…and let it out silently. Tom seemed to be puzzling over something again, grinding his straw stalk with consistently between his molars, but Huck didn't pay too much attention to it in his relief.

Huckleberry wondered over the slight resentment he felt towards the little-ones, Sid, and Joe for being mentioned as possible kissers, and was slightly disappointed in the fact that he had not been asked first and foremost; he knew he, unlike Joe, would not mind in the least. Granted, he would rather be the one being kissed, but he figured that he would take what he was offered. And to be offered free reign of those lips even if for a moment…

"Say, Hucky?" Tom inquired with a decisive air.

"Huh?" Huck said absently, still in a dream of lips on lips, heated skin on skin, and warm pressure everywhere.

"Would you mind kissing me?"

Tom seated securely atop his pelvis, trapping him between strong, young thighs; roaming hands underneath his shirt, stroking the vulnerable skin of his stomach, and… Wait a minute, say what?

"Tom?" Huckleberry was sure that was not his voice that had spoken; that diminutive, bewildered and insecure sound could not have come from him.

"You heard me: I want you to give me a kiss. It'll be real easy, promise! All you gotta do is come over here and peck me on the mouth. You can even do it real quick-like too, ain't have to be nothing special."

Huckleberry did not know what to say, let alone do. His body, on the other hand, decided that freezing up completely and allowing Huck's jaw to drop was a perfectly fine response, and it could have been for all Huck knew. Really, what in the world were you supposed to do when the first and only friend you have in the world and the object that your pre-teen hormones decides to hone onto declares that he wants to be kissed, and that, guess what, you are going to be the one doing the kissing? Follow along, engage in some tonsil-hockey, and suggest an additional session of fondling with a side of gratuitous groping?

How exactly did Tom expect for Huckleberry to know how to kiss anyway? Living alone and ostracized from normal civilization did not a people-person make. Hells, he had just gotten used to the idea of him and Tom being friends, and was coming to the conclusion, if his dreams were anything to go by, that he might want something more. Besides for that, Huckleberry was not entirely sure he knew how to touch another person properly. Sure, Tom had patted him on the back more than once, and they had been in close quarters during their numerous adventures and wrestling matches, but Huck had not really received any sort of kind touch other wise. He had, however, seen many men and women together; he had seen the whores in the taverns with their customers, as well as couples meeting within the confines of the forest for their trysts of lovemaking. Huckleberry was also perceptive enough to mark the different ways both sets of peoples treated each other, and had decided early on in life that if he were to ever do something with another person, he would much rather it be like the couples in the forest and not the tavern whores, pesky sticks and wet grass be damned.

Sadly, Huckleberry was quite sure that Tom did not want any of the things running through his mind at the moment, and would possibly be sick at the thought; Huck was a tad bit disappointed at this last bit, but he tried not to let it bother him too much. Back to the present, however; Tom was still waiting for Huckleberry's answer, his head tilted backwards enough to allow Tom a view of the other boy. The truth was that Huckleberry wanted to kiss Tom more than anything in the world, but he was afraid that if he did it once he would want more and would have to leave town before Tom started to hate him for it. He was tired being lonely all the time; he wanted to be cared for, needed to be cared for, and if all he was going to get was friendship then he would not press his luck for more.

Decided on this matter, Huckleberry got out from between his sheltering roots and began to crawl on hands and knees towards the sprawled figure of Tom. Sadly, this is not the course of action that Huck's brain had decided upon, and by the time the mind finally caught up with the body's actions Huck was already bending over the upside-down face of Thomas Sawyer, a horribly uncertain look etched onto his face.

A/N: OK, so it's COMPLETEY and OBVIOUSLY not finished. ...don't kill me?


End file.
